


What Dreams May Come

by Hils



Category: Merlin - Fandom
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-02-28
Updated: 2009-02-28
Packaged: 2018-10-16 20:18:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,432
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10578750
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hils/pseuds/Hils
Summary: In his dreams the monsters come.





	

In his dreams the monsters come. They are dark, shapeless and terrifying. He knows he should run. The very core of his being tells him it’s the only thing to do but he stands still. He has to stay and fight because he’s the prince and it’s his duty. He knows he’ll die trying.

He wakes with a cry, his favourite toy clutched tightly to his chest and his hair plastered against his damp and sweaty face. He’s safe in his own bed but the fear still grips him as tears slide down his cheeks. Another dream, but like the others it felt so real.

He hurriedly scrubs his cheeks dry as he nursemaid bustles into the room gets him out of bed.

“Did you sleep well, sire?” She asks as she washes and dresses him. Her manner is cheery but he knows whatever answer he gives will go straight back to his father so he simply nods as she chatters away about what he has to do that day. Lessons in the morning and training in the afternoon. It’s always the same but she insists on telling him. It’s almost as though she thinks he is some sort of idiot, because he’s only eight years old.

He listens to her talk but in his mind he can still see the monsters, hear their screams and smell the death that they bring.

He has never felt more alone.

* * *

“Is it true that there used to be monsters in the kingdom?” He asks his nurse that night. He hasn’t been able to stop thinking about the dream and was so distracted during training that he’d been knocked onto his back after two blows.

“There used to be,” his nurse confirms as she tucks him into bed. “But your father and his knights drove them all away. Why do you ask?”

He can already feel the back of his mind prickling cold with the fear of what will come when he falls asleep.

“No reason,” he lies. “Will you tell me about it? Instead of a story? I want to know about how my father got rid of the monsters.”

She smiles indulgently and sets aside the book she had picked out for him. “Well, it all started not long after you were born…”

He closes his eyes and allows the tales of heroic bravery to wash over him, hoping they will keep the monsters at bay.

* * *

He dreams of a witch who casts a spell over him that stops him from being able to move. Numb, powerless and afraid he can only watch as she pulls a dagger from beneath her robes and prepares to stab him.

He’s almost surprised when he wakes up in his own bed, blood pounding in his ears as he struggles to draw in ragged breaths. His toy bear is clutched tightly again and the top of its head is damp with his tears. It takes a moment for him to relax a little and it’s then that he sees his nurse standing over him, a frown on her face.

“You were screaming,” she says.

She’s never been one for sympathy so he knows he’ll get no comfort from her. She’s there simply to make sure that he’s ready for whatever his father wishes of him.

“It was just a dream,” he says, reining in his fear and attempting to control his breathing. “I’m fine.”

He sets the bear down carefully on the bed and gets up to wash his face. By the time he is dressed all physical traces of the nightmare are gone and all that remains is what lingers in his mind.

* * *

“Your highness, what are you doing?”

His head connects sharply with the underside of his bed as he jumps at the sound of his nurse’s voice. Tears of pain sting in his eyes as he crawls back out.

“I can’t find my bear.”

The idea of going to sleep without the small amount of comfort the toy brings is almost too much to bear and the tears that are still burning in his eyes are now threatening to fall.

“Oh, is that all?” his nurse says with a smile. “Your father has decided, and I agree, that you’re too old to be sleeping with toys now.”

He feels sick, as though he’s tumbling backwards into a bottomless pit and can’t stop falling. He wants to run from the room and never look back but instead he just lowers his eyes to the floor.

“Don’t worry,” she says as she helps him change into his nightshirt. “Your father has your toy and I’m sure he’ll find a child who has more need of it than you.”

He bites down on his lip to stop it from trembling as he climbs into bed. It seems so much bigger than before and he knows that when he falls asleep the dreams will come back. Nothing can stop them, he realises this now and the solution is obvious really.

He won’t sleep.

* * *

He waits until the castle is still and quiet before climbing out of bed. He can feel the exhaustion pulling at him but he ignores it. He’s on a quest now, just like the ones his father went on when he rid the kingdom of monsters. It’s his first quest and nothing, not even the looming darkness, will cause him to turn back.

He pads down the corridor, feet cold on the bare stone floor. Thankfully his father’s room isn’t far and when he reaches the door he is relieved to see no light shining through the cracks. He slips in quietly, almost flinching when a loud snore fills the room.

He can just about make out his father’s shape in the dim light, mouth open and sleeping deeply. He lets out a soft sigh of relief and starts searching. He knows the bear is in here somewhere and he won’t rest until he has it back.

Luckily his father has made no real effort to hide the toy and it’s not long before he spots it sitting on a nearby shelf.

It’s too high for him to reach.

He clenches his jaw. He won’t give up. Not now that he’s so close. He scans the room and considers his options. He could move one of the chairs but just looking at them he knows it’ll be too heavy for him to move without making a lot of noise. In fact he can’t see anything that will be easy for him to move and disappointment clenches in his chest.

He doesn’t want to give up, but he’s starting to think maybe he doesn’t have a choice, and that’s when it happens. A beam of moonlight shines through the window and lights up his father’s sword, which is propped against the end of the bed. It’s a sign, he’s sure of it; a sign that this is what he’s meant to do.

The sword is heavy and he needs both hands to lift it but he can manage. It takes all of his strength to raise the sword but he’s able to use the tip to knock the bear onto the floor.

Relief floods through him as he replaces the sword and claims his prize before hurrying back to his room. He knows that if his nurse finds the toy in his bed she’ll simply return it to his father. He has to hide it and keep it safe.

He places a kiss to the bear’s head, drinking in its comforting scent one last time before crawling underneath the bed and tucking it into a dark corner where no one will think to look. Just knowing it’s near him is enough.

He climbs back into bed and pretends to be asleep when his nurse comes in to wake him.

* * *

He’s nervous when, two days later, he received word that his father wishes to see him. No mention has been made of the bear since Arthur reclaimed him but as he walks down the corridor he’s certain that his father knows what he’s done and fear flutters in his chest.

His father regards him sternly as he enters the room and Arthur clenches his jaw. As long as he remembers he’s been taught not to show his fear so even though he can feel his heart pounding and a cold sweat has settled on his forehead he forces himself to look his father in the eyes.

“You wanted to see me, father?”

His father scrutinises him for a moment and it’s all he can do not to shrink away.

“Arthur, I’m going to ask you something and I want you to answer with complete honesty, do you understand?”

“Yes, father,” he replies and tries to swallow the lump that is forming in his throat.

“Are you unwell?”

He blinks in surprise as relief settles over him. “Unwell? No, father.”

“It has been brought to my attention that your training has been a little sluggish over the past few days. I can see for myself that something is wrong. Now, what is it?”

He knows he can’t tell his father about the nightmares as it will make him seem weak but he has never lied to him before. Then again he’s never needed to before. “Nothing is wrong, really.”

He can see his father doesn’t believe him but he can’t back out of the lie now so he just stands there and waits.

“I want you to go and see Gaius immediately,” the king finally says. “Have him give you a full examination. If he corroborates your story then we’ll speak no more of it.”

His tone implies that there is no room for argument so Arthur bows and exits, hoping he’ll be able to convince Gaius more easily than his father.

* * *

“When was the last time you slept?” Gaius asks after spending less than five minutes examining him.

“Last night, of course,” Arthur replies in what he hopes is a convincing manner.

Gaius simply looks at him, one eyebrow quirked and Arthur feels himself shrinking under the scrutiny. It’s one thing keeping the truth from his father, but Gaius is almost like an uncle to him and he’s always been kind.

“I…” he looks helplessly at his hands which are folded in his lap. His knuckles are still bruised from where Sir Hector had bashed them during training the day before.

He’s surprised to find that he wants to tell Gaius the truth just so that he can tell someone but when he tries to speak the words won’t come.

“Sire,” Gaius says gently, “you have to trust me if I’m going to help you. I promise I won’t do anything to harm you.”

He bites his lip, fingers now playing with the coral pendant that hangs around his neck.

“I dream about monsters,” he finally says with a trembling voice.

It all comes pouring out after that. The dreams, how he’s stopped sleeping to avoid them, how scared he is.

“I can’t tell my father,” he says softly. “Please don’t tell him, Gaius.”

Gaius smiles kindly and presses a small glass vial into his hand. “Take this just before you go to sleep. I think it will help.”

He returns the smile gratefully, already feeling the weight lift from him a little. He clutches the bottle tightly as though it was the key to his salvation.

“You won’t tell my father, will you?”

The old man smiles again and pats him gently on the shoulder. “I don’t see any need to trouble the king with this matter, do you?”

Arthur shakes his head emphatically.

“Good. Now, come and see me in the morning and let me know how you slept. There are a couple more remedies I can try if this one isn’t successful.

Arthur nods. “Thank you, Gaius.”

“You’re welcome, Sire.”

He hurries from the room, his heart pounding excitedly. He’s almost looking forward to nightfall so he can try the remedy and maybe get a good night’s sleep

* * *

He keeps the bottle tucked beneath his pillow until his nurse has snuffed out the candles and retired to her own room. Only then does he bring it out and remove the cork.

It smells vile and tastes even worse, but he’s always been told that medicine tastes bad so that you know it’s good for you. He’s not sure he believes it.

However, a few moments after drinking the contents he starts to feel strange. Like his bed is bobbing up and down on the ocean. His eyes feel too heavy to keep open and he doesn’t fight it, instead allowing himself to topple backwards into a black nothingness.

* * *

There is no name for the creature that looms over him. Its putrid skin is brown and oozes but that doesn’t trouble him as much as its sharp teeth and claws do. It has him backed against the wall, feral eyes glowing red in the dark and Arthur knows that he is seconds away from death.

The creature draws back an arm to strike and all he can do is curl up, close his eyes and wait for it to be over. He knows he’s not strong enough to fight it.

The killing blow never comes. Instead the creature lets out a howl of pain that causes Arthur’s eyes to snap open as he looks up.

The monster has turned its attention away from him and is now focussing on another boy. Arthur blinks, staring hard when the boy yells in a strange language and fire shoots from his fingertips.

_Magic._

The creature cries out again as its skin smoulders and chars but continues moving forward towards the other boy.

“Help me!” The boy yells, looking directly at him now. “I can’t defeat it by myself. I need you.”

He scrambles to his feet, hand already curled around the hilt of his sword, but then he hesitates. Part of his mind is telling him to run while the creature is distracted. It’s big, and he’s never fought like this before. He’s only ever trained with the knights, never in a battle to the death.

“Please,” the boy calls again. He’s running out of room to manoeuvre now and the beast will have him cornered in a matter of minutes. “You can do this! I believe in you.”

No one ever put their faith in him like that before. The knights trust him because they’ve been ordered to and that’s all he knows.

He draws his sword and charges, flying at the monster with a scream and channelling all of his pent up rage and fear into the blows he rains down on the creature’s back.

The other boy continues to send bolts of flame at the beast until finally it lets out a low groan and collapses into a smouldering heap.

“Is…is it dead?” Arthur asks, trembling hand still gripping his sword tightly.

The boy flashes him a grin. “You did it. You killed it.”

It takes a couple of attempts for him to sheath his sword because his hand is shaking so badly but he finally manages and then shakes his head. “I didn’t kill it. I just distracted it for you.”

“No,” the boy replies as he straightens his clothes and runs his fingers through his mussed black hair. “You killed it. I just helped you.”

Arthur is really staring at him now. He’s the strangest looking boy, lank and skinny with ears sticking out amidst his dark hair.

“Who are you?” He asks curiously.

“A friend.” The boy replied.

“I don’t have any friends.”

There’s no sadness behind his words. What he is stating is simply the truth.

“Well, you do now.” The boy smiles.

Arthur reaches out a hand towards him. “Are you real?”

“I’m real,” the boy assures him, “but you need to wake up now.”

His eyes snap open and he’s in his own bed. It takes him a moment to realise that it’s morning and that he’s slept through the night. His nurse is standing over him, a frown on her face.

“I was starting to wonder if you were ever going to wake up.”

He blinks at her for a moment and then smiles. “What time do I start training today?”

He can tell she’s barely managing to hide her surprise at his eagerness and that just makes him smile even more as she helps him out of his nightshirt.

For the first time since the nightmares began he finds that he’s actually hungry and wolfs down his breakfast before heading out to join the knights. His whole body is practically vibrating with anticipation as he draws his sword and imagines how he felt fighting the monster in his dream.

To everyone’s surprise, including his own, he manages to knock Sir Kay flat onto his back after five minutes of ducking and avoiding blows and he grins at the applause he receives.

The king greets him with a smile when he joins him for dinner that night.

“You’re looking much better,” he comments as they eat. “Gaius tells me you were suffering from a mild illness and just needed a good night’s sleep. It looks as though he was right.”

Arthur smiles behind his hand and quickly conceals it by taking a drink from his goblet.

* * *

This time he tries sleeping without the potion and as soon as he drifts off he finds himself in a dark cave. The boy from his dream is there again and even in the dim light he can see the grin being flashed in his direction.

“Are you afraid of the dark?” The boy asks, his voice echoing off the damp walls.

“I used to be,” Arthur admits, “but not anymore. I’m done with being afraid. I’m going to fight all those things that used to scare me.”

“You can’t fight the dark,” the boy points out.

Arthur shrugs. “The dark can’t hurt me.”

“But the things that dwell in it can.”

It’s then that he hears the scuttling and realises that they’re not alone.

“Are you afraid now?” the boy asks.

“A little,” Arthur admits. “But I’m not going to run away.”

The boy murmurs under his breath and an orb of blue light rises to shine between them. Arthur can’t help but gasp.

“Have you never seen magic before?”

“I saw you use it yesterday,” Arthur replies, reaching out a hand to try and touch the orb. “But I don’t know if that was real or not. I don’t even know if this is real.”

“It’s real,” the boy replies as the orb bobs out of Arthur’s reach. “Or at least I think it is. It feels real.”

Arthur can’t deny that. It feels just as real as any of his waking moments do.

He feels something brush against his foot and glances down. There’s a huge spider on the floor in front of him. He grimaces and stabs it, flicking the body away with the tip of his sword.

“There will be more coming,” the boy replies. “We should go.”

“Go where?” Arthur asks.

“Follow the light. You’ll wake up in your bed and I’ll wake up in mine.”

Before Arthur can ask him to explain the light moves and he is forced to follow, the scuttling sound growing louder as he moves.

When he does wake up in his bed, just as the boy had said, he has to check and make sure none of the spiders have followed him.

* * *

It’s months before he dreams of the boy again and during that time he devotes every waking moment to training. He is now skilled with a sword, mace, spear and dagger. He has beaten everyone his age and some older in the tournaments, every victory spurring him on to win the next. He’s exhausted when he crawls into bed every night but he no longer dreams of monsters. Often he doesn’t dream at all so it’s almost a surprise when one night he finds himself in the wood outside Camelot. He’s sitting on the ground with his back against a large boulder and the boy is sitting beside him.

“I thought I was never going to see you again.” Arthur says.

“Neither did I.” The boy replies.

“I thought you were the one causing these dreams. You’re the magical one.”

The boy shrugs. “I’m dreaming them too. Although I suppose it’s possible I’m doing magic in my sleep. It’s happened before.”

Arthur falls silent for a while, trying to process everything that’s happened.

“So,” he finally says. “If you’re real as you claim to be you can tell me your name and where you live so that I can come and find you when I wake up.”

“I can’t.” The boy replies simply.

“Why not?” Arthur demands.

“It’s not time. I’ll tell you my name when we meet in person.”

“And when will that be?” Arthur asks impatiently.

“I don’t know.” The boy shrugs.

“Then how do you know we’ll ever meet?”

“I just know. In the same way that I know that we won’t dream of each other again after tonight.”

The idea bothers Arthur more than he cares to admit. Even though he’s managed just fine these past few months, knowing that he’ll never see the boy who helped him make it all possible again hurts. He tries not to let it show.

“How can you know what I will dream?”

“I just know.” The boy repeats.

“Oh.”

They sit in silence after that, side by side in the moonlight. For the first time in his life this is a dream that Arthur doesn’t want to end.

“It’s time.” The boy finally says, rising to his feet and pulling Arthur up with him.

Arthur extends his hand and forces a smile even though he can feel the tears stinging in his eyes. “Thank you. For everything.”

The boy returns the smile but doesn’t take his hand. “Just remember how strong you are. You can beat anything if you put your mind to it.”

Arthur is surprised when the boy pushes his hand down and instead presses a kiss to his forehead. It feels strangely comforting.

“I’ll wait for you,” he promises. “When we meet we’ll do great things together.”

The boy grins at him one final time. “I don’t doubt it.”

When Arthur wakes up it feels like part of him is missing.

* * *

The years pass and as they do Arthur grows from a boy into a man. His confidence grows with each day and by the time he reaches his sixteenth birthday no knight in Camelot can beat him. By the time he is twenty no knight in the kingdom can beat him. People stare at him in awe as he walks the streets and he has acquired a gang of followers who go with him everywhere and lap up his every word.

“Will you be wanting to do your target practice today, sire?”

Arthur sighs. His current manservant, Gareth, is pathetically meek and tiptoes around him all the time. Arthur has no patience for the weak and can’t understand why people don’t learn to stand up for themselves like he did.

“Do you think we’re standing out here for fun?” He asks

“I…well…I don’t know, sire.”

“You don’t know?” Arthur repeats scornfully, causing his followers to laugh. “Perhaps I should tell the king that you think I have nothing better to do than stand around waiting for you.”

“No, sire. Sorry, sire. I’ll set it up now, sire.”

Arthur snorts disdainfully as Gareth hurries away to fetch the target. “I don’t think anyone has ever had such a useless manservant.”

The group of young knights chuckle as Gareth hurries back and almost trips over his own feet.

“Ok, it’s ready,” he says breathlessly as he sets the target in place.

Arthur rolls his eyes. “Where’s the target?”

Gareth looks around, puzzled. “Over there, sire.”

“It’s to the sun.” Arthur sighs in exasperation.

“It’s not that bright,” Gareth says.

“A bit like you, then.”

Gareth ducks his head. “I’ll go and move it.”

As Gareth hurriedly picks up the target Arthur notices he’s being watched. They’re waiting to see what he’s going to do, so he decides to give them a show and picks up one of the daggers with a grin. “This’ll teach him.”

“Hey! Hang on!” Gareth exclaims when the first knife hits the target while he’s still carrying it.

Arthur is amused to see that there is a little bit of fight in him at least and wonders how far he can take it before Gareth will refuse to follow his orders. “Well don’t stop.”

Gareth shuffles a few paces. “Here?”

“I told you to keep moving.” Arthur grins and throws another knife, causing Gareth to raise the target to protect himself.

“Come on! Run!”

He’s amazed but not surprised when Gareth does, so he throws a few more knives, knowing that with his level of skill the servant is in no real danger.

“Let’s have some moving target practise,” he says over his shoulder, which gets some more laughs. Sadly his fun is cut short when Gareth falls and drops the target.

“Hey, come on, that’s enough.”

Arthur head snaps up when he realises someone is actually talking to him without being spoken to first. “What?”

“You’ve had your fun, my friend.”

He blinks. The man addressing him is quite clearly a peasant but he’s looking him right in the eye without flinching. That either makes him very brave or a complete idiot and Arthur finds himself curious as to which it is.

There’s something vaguely familiar about him, something he can’t quite put his finger on.

“Do I know you?”

“I’m Merlin,” he replies cheerily and actually extends his hand.

“So I don’t know you?”

“No.”

His surprised to find that he’s actually a little disappointed, and the disappointment quickly turns to anger when he realises he’s being made to look a fool in front of everyone. “And yet you called me ‘friend’.”

“That was my mistake,” Merlin admits.

“Yes, I think so,” Arthur agrees.

“I’d never have a friend who could be such an ass.”

Arthur is so shocked that he actually laughs. He can’t help himself. Finally someone, idiotic though he may be, with a bit of fight in him.

“Nor I one who could be so stupid. Tell me, Merlin, do you know how to walk on your knees?”

He has a feeling things are about to get very interesting around here.

The End.


End file.
